Work Text:
[11 Feb 2014, 6:54 p.m.]
Incoming Call : Emma
Hey.
‘Hello, my darling.’
What are you doing this Valentine’s?
‘I’m fine too. Thank you for asking.’
You’re going to get drunk and watch all those stupid rom-coms, aren’t you?
‘Or I’ll party till I forget my name and drag some hot guy home.’
Yeah, and I’m going to be the President.
‘Hey! I’m completely capable of it. I just don’t do it often.’
I’m sure you are. Listen, how does a date with a hot guy sound?
‘I don’t know, Emm—’
Oh, come on. He’s completely your type.
‘And what exactly would that be?’
Tall, aloof and brash.
‘That is absolutely not my type!’
Let’s rummage through your dating history, shall we? Let’s see... There was Nathan... Um... who was that weirdo again? Jason? And…
‘Alright, fine. There’s no need to go into specifics... Let’s just hope that this one doesn’t end like them.’
So you’ll go?
‘What’s in it for you?’
Hey! Can’t a girl just help her best friend get laid?
‘When pigs can fly!’
Ah! How you wound my heart.
‘Tell me about this guy.’
And where exactly is the fun in that, sugar?
‘How do you know him?’
A friend of a friend. It’s a long story. Listen, gotta go. I’ll text you the time and place, yes?
‘Bye, dear. Good night.’
Any other year, Charles would have jumped at the thought of a date on Valentine’s Day. But this year, he’s still wound up by how the last one ended. He’s not hung up on it, per se, but he doesn’t want to get back on the dating wagon anytime soon, and he’s not his over-enthusiastic self about it either.
Though he doesn’t have high hopes for this date, there’s nothing wrong with the idea of good food and fine wine at a nice restaurant with decent company. It’s definitely better than getting drunk at home. Plus, if his date is hot, he could get lucky and get laid. Nothing to lose, at least.
*
[14 Feb 2014, 10:54 a.m.]
Emma : ‘You’re meeting him at The Graymalkin, 6 p.m.’
[14 Feb 2014, 11:00 a.m.]
You : ‘How will I know it’s him?’
[14 Feb 2014, 11:03 a.m.]
Emma : ‘Trust me. You’ll know.’
[14 Feb 2014, 11:04 a.m.]
Emma : ‘Oh, and heads up, he has no sense of fashion or protocol, so don’t expect him to turn up in anything fancy.’
[14 Feb 2014, 11:06 a.m.]
You : ‘I’m already looking forward to it.’
[14 Feb 2014, 11:08 a.m.]
Emma : ‘Come on, don’t be so despondent, Charles. It’s unlike you.’
[14 Feb 2014, 11:10 a.m.]
Emma : ‘Gotta go. I’m sure you’ll have a great time, and no matter what happens, DO NOT DISTURB ME!!’
[14 Feb 2014, 11:14 a.m.]
You : ‘Understood. Bye, darling.’
*
After a shake-down of half his closet, Charles settles on a white button-down and coal slacks. It’s neutral territory, not too fancy, but classic at the same time. After further analysis, he adds a lilac sweater to the mix. Emma would probably berate him for it, but it’s February, he’s not going to run around catching a cold.
The restaurant is in one of the high-end corners of town. The decorations added in favour of the day, and the young, happy crowd milling around the entrance, bring a festive charm to the place.
From what Charles can see, there’s no one fitting the description of his date — if there was a description in the first place at all. But there is a guy firing off on the phone in what sounds like German. He is the definition of hot: short auburn hair and a sexy stubble. Not to mention the broad shoulders hidden beneath a grey Henley and a leather jacket, the battered jeans completing the look. Too bad the guy is miles out of his league. He wonders what that authoritative voice would sound like in his—
So caught up in his thoughts is he that he doesn’t notice Dr Blieck a few feet away from the hottie. It’s not that he knows Blieck very well, but he has seen him a few times around the university, and the man seems like someone who keeps to himself. Still, what are the chances of him being his date? He does fit the bill: tall and brash and in his league in more ways than one. He’s dressed in plaid and peeking at his watch awkwardly every two minutes, clearly waiting for someone.
Charles walks up to a very startled Blieck and puts on his most charming smile. ‘Hello, Mr Blieck. I’m Charles Xavier. I don’t think you know me, but we work at the same university.’ And when he gets no response, ploughs on. ‘I’m not sure how you know Emma, but it seems to me that she—’
A blonde in a black dress cuts Charles short.
‘Sorry, honey, I was late.’ She kisses Blieck on the lips.
The latter gives him a gruff, ‘I’m sorry. You must have me mistaken,’ before the duo walk off — hand in hand — into the restaurant, leaving Charles a little too overwhelmed to reply.
He must have missed something, because someone taps him on the shoulder, and to his surprise, the hottie from before is asking him, ‘Excuse me, you did mention someone by the name of Emma. Is it by any chance an Emma Frost?’
Charles nods dumbly, and the hottie holds out a large hand towards him. ‘Hi, I’m Erik Lehnsherr.’
*
It’s not that Charles hadn’t had a nice time. Erik was a thorough gentleman, holding the door, pulling his chair out for him, and asking what he wanted to drink, but Erik had seemed… unhappy to see him. He had spoken very little, only revealing that his parents were from Germany but he was born and raised in Utopia, that he had been in the SAS division of the military but had quit, and now raced bikes for the Utopian Racing League.
Charles had no qualms about talking for two people if need be, and Erik had been an attentive listener, only when he wasn’t too busy scowling or glaring at the batches of people crossing their table, or snarling at the other couples making out, or poking at the pink candles between them, or kicking the red heart-shaped balloons on the floor — so hard, once, that one balloon had burst, causing Charles to jump in his chair and the whole restaurant to look in their direction.
After an extensive survey of the menu, Charles had ordered a lobster dish for himself and white wine to complement it. Erik’s menu had remained untouched. ‘One beer for me. And boiled chicken,’ he had said.
When the waiter was about to protest, Erik had grinned at him — all teeth — and barked, ‘Make it spicy.’
The poor guy had turned white, like he’d seen a ghost, and nodded fiercely before running off in the opposite direction.
When Erik had turned back to Charles, he had coolly stated, ‘I have an early one at the track tomorrow. So, grape juice isn’t good for it.’
Fine wine was definitely not just grape juice.
Charles must have overestimated his capacity to eat, because one-fourth of his lobster was still staring back at him by the end of the main course. With not much room left to digest anything without skipping dessert, he had begun looking for a waiter to order, only to have Erik point at his plate and scowl, ‘Aren’t you going to finish your food first?’
Charles had stuttered for a response and, when he found none, had gulped down the remaining contents of his plate, barely chewing.
Now, Charles was no wilting flower with delicate feelings. He’d had his share of dates who had promised to call and never had. He was okay with that. Even the disinterested ones had been amicable enough to hold a friendly conversation through the course of an evening. But nobody had ever shown their disappointment to his face, and quite frankly — more than anything — Charles was embarrassed.
Erik had picked up the bill and Charles hadn’t protested. The least the idiot could do was pay. Erik hadn’t asked for Charles’s number, nor had he given him his. Charles was happy to leave it that way. They had shaken hands and said their goodbyes.
He had gone home and gotten drunk.
So, all in all, his evening was not a complete disaster.
*
[17 Feb 2014, 8:15 p.m.]
Incoming Call : Emma
Hey Charles. Listen, I need a favour from you.
‘No.’
You don’t even know what it is!‘
I don’t have to know what it is for my answer to be a no.’
I’m sure you’ll agree once you know what it is.
‘What is it then?’
I want you to go on another date with Erik Lehnsherr.
‘No.’
Charles! Please.
‘My, my, I live to see the great Emma Frost in request mode.’
Shut up! Will you do it?
‘No, Emma. I don’t think he likes me. So no! I won’t put myself out there for somebody to look down upon me like that.’
Did he say it to you? That he doesn’t like you? Because he tells me that he liked you a great deal.
‘No. But the unease clearly showed on his face. He was just… angry throughout.’
About that…
‘What did you do?’
I didn’t do anything. Erik might not have known that it was Valentine’s Day the day you guys went out. So I think he was just a little overwhelmed.
‘How can someone in the twenty-first century possibly not know when Valentine’s Day is? And how can you expect me to believe it?’
Believe it or not, that’s the truth, okay? Come on, you have to admit that he is hot.
‘How exactly shallow do you think I am?’
Alright, not shallow. But you are a good friend, aren’t you? Charles, he’s been terrorising me for the past two days for a chance to speak to you.
‘A hermit and a creep. No.’
Okay... let’s make a deal then. If you agree to talk to him just once, I won’t interfere in your love life again. How does that sound?
‘I must admit, this tone doesn’t suit you, Emma. If he has managed to scare you, maybe he is worth talking to again.’
So you’ll speak to him? Thank God! I’ll give him your number. Okay, bye.
‘Wai—’
She hangs up before Charles has a chance to protest.
Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to talk to the guy one more time, especially if it prohibits Emma from holding his love life over his head like an axe.
*
[17 Feb 2014, 9:00 p.m.]
Incoming Call : Unknown Number
‘Hello, Charles Xavier.’
Hi Charles, Erik Lehnsherr. We had dinner the other day.
‘Yes, of course. Good to hear from you.’
It is?
‘Excuse me?’
Is it good to hear from me?
‘Uh… um… yes, I suppose.’
Okay, good then. Will you date me?
‘Excuse me!?’
Are you able to hear me?
‘Yes… yes… uh… I can hear you… yes.’
So? Will you date me?
‘That’s it? No “I had a nice time, would you like to go out again?” or “I like you, how about coffee sometime?”’
Well, all that will eventually lead to me dating you, so I’m asking you right away. Will you date me?
‘—’
Please.
‘I must admit, I like your honesty… alright, I’m willing to try dinner with you again.’
Great! When will you be available?
‘This Friday will do.’
6 p.m. My place. I’ll text you the address. Good night. Bye!
‘Good night!’
For a long time, Charles doesn’t know what to make of that conversation.
*
Charles had had his reservations about meeting Erik at his house. The man had intimidated him in a public place, and Charles was scared for himself at the prospect of being alone with Erik.
But it turned out that Erik was easy company when he wasn’t surrounded by a horde of people. It turned out that he was smart, intelligent, and witty, with just the right amount of sarcasm to make Charles laugh until his cheeks hurt. He was the kind with interesting theories on world matters — extreme, but refreshing nonetheless.
And to add to all that, he played chess and was a master chef, through and through. Though the food was a little spicy for Charles’s taste — along with the scotch that Erik had served — it had done wonders inside his head.
So much so, that now, he was having a tough time concentrating on the game of chess in front of him.
‘Erik, what did Emma tell you about me? You know... before our date?’ he asks, out of curiosity.
Erik snaps his head up from the board, looking alarmed. So Charles gives him a reassuring smile — the one he gives his students — encouraging them to answer. ‘It’s fine. Emma and I have known each other since we were kids. There’s really nothing that I haven’t heard from her. You can be honest with me.’
Erik looks relieved, contemplates his explanation, and answers, ‘She told me to look for a stuffy professor dressed in layers of sweaters or cardigans.’
He watches Charles’s face closely for his reaction, then adds quickly, ‘She also told me that you’re a genius.’
‘It’s my type, you know,’ he says, flushing a little and ducking his head to hide it. ‘Intelligent.’
Charles may be a little in love with him. Just a little. Just maybe. Or it might be the scotch. He can’t say for sure.
*
[21 Feb 2014, 11:54 p.m.]
Outgoing Call : Emma
‘EMMA!’
God, Charles! Stop shouting.
That call lasts forty-five minutes, and two weeks of reconciliation.
_